


Painted Bird

by WildAndFreeHearts



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Community: bloodyvalentine, Fantasizing, M/M, Scat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-14
Updated: 2013-10-14
Packaged: 2017-12-29 10:35:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1004382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildAndFreeHearts/pseuds/WildAndFreeHearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>"So the Painted Elf assaults helpless statuary with its feces?"</em>
  <br/>
  <em>"If given sufficient cause, why not?"</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Painted Bird

Shale can still feel the slime on his body sometimes, on cold quiet nights when everyone else had slipped into fetid, fleshy sleeping. He is hounded by coos and cawing although he knows is only a part of his imagination. He jumps at shadows that seem to have fluttering wings and talons, but are merely overhanging braches blowing in the wind. Shale smells the stink of the slick goo, pooling all over his frozen eyes, he tastes it as it slides into his gaping mouth – he can’t even move to spit the offensive sludge out; it’s sticky warmth puddles on his chest. He has to shake his body, try to free himself from the memory of the long years of humiliation of being… a… toilet.

He feels so ashamed for the injustice of having had to endure those long years of unmovable debasement. He wishes he could kill that damned wizard all over again. A million times over.

So he doesn’t know why he’s so interested in the bodily functions of the Painted Elf…. the Crow. His mind keeps bringing up images that are both deeply uncomfortable yet oddly intriguing. He wonders what it would feel like to have the Painted Elf release his bowels on his chest; would it be warm and gooey too? Would it seep down into the cracks and crevices of his rocks? How would it feel if the Painted Elf spread it across his crystals? What would it… taste like? What if Shale rubbed it onto _the Crow’s_ chest? Or _other places_ on the Elf? He would make the Elf painted in another sense. It would be filthy. He would love it. But it was just a disgusting… fantasy. It was most assuredly not something he could act upon.

He still remembers trying to casually ask the Painted Elf about his profession; he had been rightfully affronted by the fact that the Painted Elf claimed to be a nasty sky-vermin for a living and had ordered that, if he was indeed a Crow, that the Elf stay away from him. The Painted Elf’s wistful, soft reply of acceptance had been almost sad. He had since learned that there was a whole flock of Crows in a place called Antiva, the Painted Elf’s home, which was very far away. He had wondered if what he had heard in the Crow’s voice had been lonesomeness… he had been gone from his roost a very long time. Then Shale had begun to wonder his _he_ was lonesome as well – there where very few Golems left in the world and the ones that existed didn’t have wills of their own due to control-rods. He wondered if the Painted Elf would like to spend more time with him, so maybe they both would lose the squishy fleshy feelings of sadness they both shared.

But then again the Crow seemed to revel in icky fleshy emotions. And why in the world would the beautiful, soft Painted Elf wish to spend any amount of time entertaining him, a big rock-monster?  Especially if he ever discovered the strange, dirty ideas said monster had about him and his feces? No, Shale would be sure to keep the Crow at a safe distance, and his fantasies to himself…


End file.
